Sir Henry had broken loose but found Babs, lost and looking for her partners. “To you, I must smell like my same old self, even if I look like Eileen Adlon.”
He led her to Guy and Wiggins, who almost didn’t recognize her after her glamorous transformation. Wiggins also joked about Guy’s impersonation of a blind man with his guide dog and said he reminded him of an old sea captain with his fake beard made from castoff dog hair. Guy, relieved he didn’t need the disguise any longer, pocketed his welder goggles.
Now, since she reunited with her friends, Babs couldn’t get her questions out fast enough. “Have you located the rest of the dogs?” she asked. “I expect more than just Toto and Asta. I tried to check on Ivan. His car isn’t there.”
“Hold on,” Guy said. “You’re going in too many directions. Ivan will be back long before we need him.”
Sir Henry took off again at a quick clip and stopped in front of an entrance to the engine room. He barked to signal they needed to enter. Guy went first. Wiggins second, but he retraced his steps when Babs hadn’t followed.
“Whatcha waiting for?” he asked.
Babs took a hard swallow. It was even more of a labyrinth inside—and hot, dirty, and damp. If it wasn’t from the filth, her sweat stains would ruin her borrowed couture.
Sir Henry’s scruffy ears stood straight up. Must’ve sensed something the humans couldn’t and took off again.
At a loss, Babs threw her hands up in the air. “Which way did he go?”
Wiggins reoriented their position on his map. “According to this, there are two engine rooms, two turbo generator rooms, five boiler rooms, which house twenty-seven boilers, and—”
“One crazy sniffer dog lost amid this maze,” said Guy. “We’re going to have to be on our guard.”
Unable to find Sir Henry, Babs broke out into a sweat from the unbearable heat. “Feels like the soles of my shoes are melting.”
Wiggins cupped his ear and swore he heard Sir Henry’s barks. They came to a halt in the Aft Steering Room, where they discovered over two dozen snarling dogs penned in wire cages.
Stumped, Guy said, “These look nothing like the dogs we saw at the countess’s.”
He warned Babs to stay back and grabbed Sir Henry by the collar.
“I wouldn’t want to keep any of these fellers around as my pet,” Wiggins said. “They look like fightin’ dogs. Ears chewed up. Raw sores. Broken teeth. The kind you’d throw into a pit for sport.” He addressed Babs. “You’re the boss. What next?”
She asked Guy for his handkerchief. With a loud, unladylike burst, she blew her nose like a bassoon. “Forgive me,” she said.
“What for?” Wiggins asked.
Almost in tears, Babs stopped and panicked. “I think we just won the Academy Award for the world’s worst detectives. Everyone gave us an impossible deadline. At times, I had to do everything on my own. We didn’t have enough time to think this through. How are we going to get the dogs off the ship without getting caught? Plus, these aren’t the dogs we want. I feel like someone spun me around in circles with a blindfold on, and now, while disoriented, I’m supposed to find my target.”
Guy couldn’t believe his ears. “Everyone makes mistakes. We’ll figure this out.”
Abel Wiggins reexamined his map and began whistling My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.
Babs lost her marbles. “How can you be so cheerful at a time like this?”
“Isn’t there an old saying that you might as well belt out a ballad before you greet the hangman’s noose?”
In an act of sheer madness, “Got to go,” was all Babs said before she took off. Despite Guy pleading she couldn’t quit on them now, and Wiggins shouting, “Have you gone bonkers?” she left startled faces in her wake.
Feeling something was wrong, Babs bolted out of the engine room and up to the top deck. She gritted her teeth—so nervous she could scream. Nigel Bruce had given her a tidbit of information that struck a chord. She didn’t understand its ramifications at the time, but now it made sense. Not only that, but her gut feelings also told her one of two things: either Captain Irving knew nothing about the fighter dogs, or if he did, he was in on it. Those unanswered questions compelled her to abandon her friends and locate him. This was the complete opposite of what Sherlock Holmes would’ve done, but she also knew better than to ignore her intuition. She hoped her hiding place was safe, as she observed and overheard the goings-on inside the Captain’s Bridge.
A group of firebrands, all armed, wearing leather boots, breeches, revolver belts, and swastika armbands, held Captain Irving and his crew at gunpoint. Ivan Alexandrescu, their chauffeur, stood among them. No wonder she couldn’t find him earlier.
Their leader identified himself as Kommandant Walter Jäger. He spoke in German to his comrades, but communicated in clear, almost perfect English to the American crew. Weedy and angular, he reminded Babs of a watered-down version of Conrad Veidt from The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, but shorter. His main stormtroopers: Otto Braun and Cig Angermann, the smoking man from the stateroom. All recent hires at the Hollywood Kennels. While Cig had his weapon drawn, Otto held onto a leash, restraining four vicious pit bulls.
Captain Irving stood his ground. “We know you use our ports to distribute significant sums of money, guns, and Nazi propaganda. We’re also aware you dispatch these to places like your Aryan bookstore, meeting halls like Alt Heidelberg and Deutsches Haus, private supper clubs like Wurst Haus downtown, and other places beyond. I’m sure our Department of Justice already has undercover operatives who’ve infiltrated your Bund. Once they catch up to your German American League, Hitlerites, or whatever you call yourselves, they’ll deport all of you.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Jäger. “Many of us have already infiltrated the National Guard and the Secret Service. Southern California has valuable, but vulnerable, aircraft production facilities and military installations.”
The first officer tried to reach for a phone. Cig aimed his pistol and shot it out of his hand. Babs almost screamed from the sudden noise but was lucky she didn’t.
“After your men finish the ship’s retrofitting for combat, instead of sailing for Australia, you’ll be heading into Japanese waters,” said Jäger.
“They’ll torpedo us!” the captain cried.
“On the contrary, they’ll capture her and use her like a Trojan Horse,” Jäger replied. “We’d have the German navy do it, but since Japan is closer and they’re our allies, we’ve delegated that task to them.
“Our German Radio Hour broadcasts every Friday night on KRKD. When we play your pre-recorded Sherlock Holmes radio show, we’ll transmit the ship’s coordinates in an unbreakable code to the Japanese navy for intercepting this vessel.”
“What do you plan with those dogs?” the first officer asked.
“The fighters are for sale to brother Bund organizations. One of our methods of raising money for our German cause is illegal betting. At the moment, they’re caged in a secret location on one of your lower decks, separate from the others. They’re dangerous and require special handling. Our transfer will occur nearby in San Pedro. Those Japanese fishing vessels along the coast are not as innocent as they look.
“When the Queen Mary arrives in Japan, we’ll auction the celebrity-owned and movie dogs to the highest bidders,” replied Jäger.
“Not only do you have my crew, but everyone attending the party downstairs.”
“From this point on, consider them prisoners of war,” said Jäger. “I’m sure the Japanese will get exorbitant ransoms for your Hollywood stars.”
The captain continued his accusations. “You’ll never get away with this. Your organizations are flawed. Just like those fighting dogs, you’re often pitted against each other.”
“Let me remind you which side of the gun you’re on,” Jäger said. “A New Germany will rise and destroy the pornographic and demoralizing films of Hollywood. The studios, producers, directors, and actors who make them will pay the ultimate price.”
The first officer said, “You’re all talk and no action.”
Jäger gave an order in German to Cig. He fired at the rebellious first officer, to wound and teach a lesson, but not to kill. The bullet grazed his shoe, tearing off its leather. He fell and clutched his bleeding foot. Captain Irving ordered his staff captain to fetch supplies and administer first aid.
Jäger cautioned his hostages. “We are willing to die for our Fatherland. Are you?”
After a round of Nazi salutes and Heil Hitlers, Babs took off.